Remember, Lord, the good old days of packed synagogues rapt by your fresh-air teachings and electric crowds of contagious cures? Remember how alive and focused we all felt far away from the dopey smell of fish? Man! (or Son thereof) we were on top of the world! (or was it over the moon?) the cat’s meow and the camel’s hump! But then came Your perforation-- they pierced and pressed You out like a teabag after boiled steeping. In the wooden crosshair shadow all we want with all our heart is to remember and forget in such rapid succession that the little pencil drawings of Your life and ours attain once more some animation. But that’s not what this is now about, dear Resurrected Stranger. Christ Almighty! We got to work again all over to get to know You and nothing we knew before will be much help in this hard, so hard and happy task.